Life of Pie: The Admirer
by BrilliantDarkness
Summary: Special treats begin appearing for one of the boys. The bringer of the treats is reluctant to reveal herself.


It was before dawn when those dwelling in the bunkhouse first began to rise and stretch. Rarely did they sleep long enough to greet a fully born day. Although it seemed they were always awake to get front row seats to the glory of each sunrise. That was a gift in itself and usually went a ways to dispelling the grouchy thoughts they had about rising so early.

This morning, the brilliant colors from the horizon were not yet present to temper the sleepy grumpiness of the Pony Express riders. None spoke to the others. They merely regarded each other through bleary eyes. Noah was the first to have pants and boots on and he headed for the door.

The others barely took notice of his exit but they all looked up when the door immediately opened and he stood once again in the doorway. Wordlessly and with a look of some confusion and half-formed curiosity Noah walked to Cody and handed him a pie.

Cody took the offered confection and a smile turned up the corners of his still mostly asleep mouth. He looked down and saw the pie was cherry with a perfect lattice crust. The golden brown crust glistened with the egg whites that had been brushed over it before baking. Cody's mouth watered looking at it.

There was a folded piece of paper atop the pie.

"Mr. Cody," were the only words spelled out by the elaborate, swirling script.

"Who's that from?" Lou asked groggily.

Cody picked up the paper and looked inside.

"I don't know…Says 'Just for you' and nothing else," he said beginning to wake with the mystery of it. "It ain't signed or nothing."

"You should probably let someone taste it," Jimmy piped up having finally come fully awake. "Make sure it ain't poisoned."

"You're just trying to finagle a piece, Jimmy. The note says it's all for me."

"Probably whoever it is just doesn't want to risk killing the rest of us," Buck joked before heading out toward his chores. "The rest of us haven't offended nearly the whole female population of Rock Creek."

"I have done no such thing," Cody argued indignantly.

"That's not what Lena Jeffries was saying in Tompkins' store the other day," Noah countered.

Cody narrowed his eyes at the pie in his hands and tentatively took a whiff of it.

"Smells alright to me."

Reluctantly, Cody set the pie on the table to the laughter of the others and went out to do the morning chores. At lunch he was persuaded to share the pie with the rest of them—keeping the largest slice for himself, of course. It was his pie after all. And it was not poisoned. It was, he noted, delicious.

That evening he sat on his bunk with a piece of paper and a pencil. Rachel had washed the pan the pie had been delivered in and he thought it best to set it back out. He didn't know who to return it to, after all. But he thought he should include a thank you note with the pan. His mama had taught him to always show gratitude for a kindness.

"_Dear…I don't even know how to address this. But I had to thank you all the same. That cherry pie might have been the finest I have ever tasted. And I have tasted a good many. That was a very nice thing to do for me. I wish I knew who you were. I would very much like to repay your kindness in some way. Perhaps you could send another note. Or come and visit me here at the station. Otherwise every time I am in town I will wonder which lovely lady you are. Until I hear word from you, I will keep you in my dreams. Yours most gratefully, William F. Cody."_

He folded the piece of paper in half and set it in the pan which he then sat on a chair on the porch of the bunkhouse.

The next morning the pan was gone but in its place was a plate of cookies. Cody was the first to discover them. There was another note and once he was done with chores and breakfast, he went off alone with the cookies to read the note.

"_Dear Mr. Cody, I'm afraid I just do not have the courage to reveal myself to you. Perhaps someday I shall but that day is not today. Today I shall content myself to bring you some treats to bring a smile to your handsome face. Perhaps I shall dream that your smiles are for me, that your eyes dance for mine."_

Cody put down the note and picked up a cookie thinking of his next move.

* * *

"You were awful quiet tonight," Rachel remarked to Cody as they cleaned the supper dishes. To be honest she was as unnerved by his quiet as she was by his lack of argument when she suggested that he help with the cleaning up.

"Had some things on my mind."

"Maybe if you talked about them they wouldn't weigh so heavy," Rachel suggested.

Cody shook his head at first. He knew he was being silly or stupid even. And bringing it up would put him in a position for more teasing. But then this wasn't one of the guys. This was Rachel. Maybe she could help.

"I-Maybe…maybe I could use some advice."

Rachel motioned him to sit at the table and listened as he explained of the pie the day before and the cookies from that day. He also told her of the note he wrote and the one written back.

"It sure sounds like you have an admirer."

"I sort of think so too but why won't she tell me who she is?"

"She could be shy," Rachel offered. "Or perhaps she lacks confidence. She might be afraid."

"She can't be scared of me, could she?"

"She could be afraid that you'd reject her. A broken heart might not be deadly but it's nothing to be trifled with."

"What should I do?" Cody asked. "I can't promise that I'll fall in love with her but I want to meet her. What if she's just perfect for me? I'd never know if she didn't let me know who she is."

"Maybe that's what she needs to hear," Rachel answered. "It might be a bit of your reputation that she fears too."

"What? She might think I wouldn't be a gentleman?"

Cody was offended at the thought.

"I mean…well, you often pursue women with a certain figure and who dress a certain way. If she feels she can't measure up to that…for whatever reason…she might fear your reaction. Make sure before you meet her that you can be careful with her heart. You might never be in love with her but she is with you."

Cody nodded and before bed he penned another note.

"_I won't even try for a normal start to this note. I wish I could. I know so little and yet I feel I know a great deal. You have a kind heart. I can be certain of that. Your handwriting tells me you are an artist. Of course, I knew that in tasting the treats you have sent me. Yet I do not know your name, your face. Someone told me you might fear to tell me. That you might fear my reaction to you. I cannot promise that I would return your feelings. I wish that I could. But it would take more than just seeing you to know if I could or not. I would have to talk to you. About books and other things as well. I am more than what most see in me. For all I know, once you met me and spent time talking to me, you wouldn't like me much either. I like to think I am a pretty decent guy but I don't know what you would think of me. Right now, I feel we are both judging on what little we know. You know what I look like and I know your sweet words and skill in a kitchen. I very much like what I know of you and believe you like what you know of me. Perhaps you could find that courage after all to let me meet you and we can see if we would still like the things we don't yet know about each other._

"_And please, call me Billy. Yours truly, Billy Cody."_

He sat the plate the cookies had been on gently upon the chair on the porch and then carefully set the note on that. The temptation was great to sit and wait for her but if she was afraid then it wouldn't do to spook her. He would just have to wait for her to come to him. At her own pace.

"You still don't know who sent them, do you?" Jimmy asked quietly as Cody climbed into his bed.

"Not a clue."

Jimmy just shook his head. For his part, Cody breathed a sigh of relief. He thought Jimmy might try to make fun but instead Jimmy just offered a smile that looked like one of encouragement.

The next morning there was another pie. Another cherry pie to be precise. And there was once again a note atop it.

"_Dear Billy, I cannot believe I have been allowed to address you so informally. Your words made me feel bold—almost bold enough to reveal my identity to you. But I cannot. You are right. I suppose I don't know you much better than you know me. But I do have more information than just what you look like. I see you. I see you when you are laughing with your friends and when you are by yourself and reading or writing in your journal. You are more than what most see, much more. I know that. There is a sensitive man within. I want so badly to trust that you would see all that is inside of me as well. Perhaps what I worry is that there isn't enough inside of me to make me all that interesting. For now, please accept this humble gift for you with my love. I told you that you emboldened me. I could never have written of love before."_

There was still no signature and it vexed him all the more. That night he crafted yet another note.

"_I believe that you are selling yourself short. I realize this is a very blunt beginning to a note but I can't think of another way to say it. You think that I would find you uninteresting. On the contrary. It takes a brave heart to sneak out in the night and leave gifts for a man. I find that fascinating. You write of love and with what I know of you, I believe I might be falling for you as well. I can only hope that you will allow me the chance to fall in love with you. I think I might just. Please, dear mystery lady, tell me who you are. I simply must know."_

He once again left the note in the freshly washed pie pan. But this time he did not go to bed. He sat next to the window and waited. He knew he must have dozed once or twice but each time he woke, he checked and the pan was still there with the note inside.

He dozed for a while again and was awakened by a sound. Peeking out the window, he saw a delicate hand lifting the note he had written. He then saw a female form sit on the porch to read in the light cast by the lamp that hung next to the door.

Cody hesitated but knew he had to do what he did next. He wasn't wearing boots so he was able to move out of the bunkhouse almost completely without making a sound. The young lady was so engrossed in reading his note and crafting her reply that what little sound he made, she did not detect.

"Excuse me," he said softly and watched her jump. "I'm sorry to startle you."

"I should go," came the meek reply.

"I wish you would stay," Cody told her. "Actually, what I wish is that you would turn around."

"I'd rather not."

"Why?" he asked. "What are you afraid of?"

She only shook her head as her shoulders slumped.

"Will you tell me your name?"

"Greta."

It was scarcely a whisper.

"That's real pretty," he told her.

"I should go," she squeaked and Cody thought that she might have been weeping. "I need to get home. Bread isn't going to bake itself. I left you a cake."

"I'm sure it's delicious…I can't let you walk home by yourself."

"I usually go home alone."

"That's because you were sneaking," he reminded her. "You can't honestly think I could sit here and let a lady such as yourself walk home unescorted."

"You don't owe me anything."

"I'm a gentleman, Greta. My obligations…it's not about owing. I need to see you safe."

"Mr. Cody…"

"Billy," he corrected gently.

"I just can't."

"You leave me those notes," he argued. "You say such sweet things. You leave me special treats. Why won't you even look at me?"

"When I write those notes, I can dream that you might feel the same," she explained. "When I bake you special treats, I can imagine that you're my sweetheart or maybe even my husband. But with you here, all I can think…all I can know…is that none of that can ever be. You could never love me, Billy."

"You can't know that, Greta."

"I can and I do," she said sadly. "No man will ever love me…especially one as perfect and handsome as you."

"I worried about that," he said with some resignation. "I know I have a reputation. I guess sometimes we don't think about how our actions reflect on us. I guess I chase after a certain sort. But I think it's mostly because those are the ones who act like they want me to chase them. I should learn. They ain't going to let me catch them."

"I'd let you catch me. But you wouldn't want to. Isn't it funny that life is like that?"

"Why do you say I wouldn't want to? Why do you say no man could love you? Did you do something really bad like murder someone?"

"No," she said sadly. "Nothing like that. I…I just…I just know."

"Greta," he said firmly. "I'm not going to let this go. I will see you home safely and I will come to call on you every day until you tell me."

She pushed her shoulders back and he saw her take a breath and let it out shakily.

"I knew I couldn't dream forever," she said. "I'll show you."

Slowly she turned toward him. Her rich brown hair glowed in the lamplight. He first saw a creamy cheek and full pink lips and one wide and beautiful eye. He thought it looked to be a deep, rich brown in color. She paused standing in profile to him and seemed to gather more courage. Cody wanted to say something about what he saw. She was pretty. She wasn't as done up as some girls he had seen but her beauty was an honest beauty.

But then she turned more and he could see. The lips that had seemed so full and inviting were twisted with scars. Those scars met up with the scars that wound their way up her cheek and toward her eye which drooped nearly closed.

"I'll go now," she said to the silence with which her face had been met.

"Please…don't," he pleaded.

"I repulse you."

Cody admitted, to himself only, that her face had shocked him at first. But he was already moving past his original surprise. Her eyes were brown…a lovely, rich shade. Her beauty wasn't lessened by the scars. It was not marred. She was prettier, he thought, for the strength to endure all she must have had to.

"You don't," he asserted. "Not at all. Can I ask how that happened?"

"I was driving the buckboard home. I had been getting some supplies. The horse was spooked and one of the wheels hit a large rock. The buckboard tipped over. I was pinned underneath. They said I bled a lot. I don't remember. I don't remember anything after the wheel hit the rock. There were some glass jars in the buckboard. I had gotten them so I could can some things for the winter. The jars all broke and my face—the right side of it anyway—landed in the glass."

"That must've been very scary for you."

"You don't have to keep being so kind."

"I should be mean because there was an accident? That doesn't make much sense, Greta," he said. "You're nice…why shouldn't I be?"

"Because I am hideous."

"No…you're not. The other guys might be surprised at this…you're very pretty to me because I can see who you are still. I can see your kindness. I wrote once that you must have a kind heart and I can see it shining through. I'd still like to walk you home, if I may."

Greta nodded to him and a smile spread across his face.

"Great! Just let me grab a couple things and then we can go," he said. "And you wondered what it might look like if my smile was for you. This is it. This is because you made me want to smile. I get this smile whenever a pretty lady agrees to let me walk her home."

He flashed her yet another winning smile before picking up the cake and leaving her on the porch. He was only gone a few moments but it was long enough for Greta to move from elation at his smile to worry and fear that he wasn't coming back out. Perhaps he was trying to get away from her. Maybe he was just too nice to say what he really thought.

Just as she was about to turn and walk away, the door opened again. Billy stood before her offering another smile that left her weak in the knees. He had put on boots and his gun and was carrying his fringed jacket.

"I was worried you might be chilled," he explained holding the jacket up to drape over her shoulders.

"Thank you," Greta whispered.

He gallantly offered his arm to her.

"Shall we?"

She cautiously took his arm as if still waiting for the other shoe to drop. They walked in silence for a while before Cody spoke.

"So Greta, I feel I can finally get to know you a little bit. What's your favorite color?"

"Green," she said simply.

"Green is lovely," he agreed. She didn't seem to want to elaborate on her answer so he forged ahead with another question. "Do you like to read?"

"I didn't used to but I spend a lot of time inside now. There's not much else to do. It's quite satisfying, I think. I know I almost always see you with a book in your hands."

"Reading is a very worthwhile way to spend time, in my opinion," he stated.

"I agree," she affirmed.

"Maybe you could suggest some books I ought to read. I'm always looking to expand my mind. The others don't approve too much when I read them dime stories."

"I think I have a couple that you might like. I could loan them to you."

"I'd like that, Greta."

They walked on a ways more until Greta stopped.

"This-this is my home."

Cody looked over at the neatly kept front of a simple home. He felt her fingers release his arm but he placed a hand over hers. He turned her toward him and she seemed to realize something and moved to shrug his jacket off. He moved his hands to hold it on her.

Then he lifted one hand to her unscarred cheek and then the other moved toward the other side of her face. She flinched away.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Does it hurt still?"

She shook her head. Cody reached once more for her face and lightly traced all the scars. Then he lowered his face to hers and kissed first at the corner of her eye and then placed another light kiss on her cheek over the scar there. He moved his lips down to the scar that twisted away from the corner of her mouth.

Cody looked into Greta's eyes and saw tears beginning to form there. His fingers moved reverently and so lightly over her cheeks and forehead, brushing her shining brown hair from her brow. His fingers gently held her face and he placed a tender kiss on her lips. He pressed his lips to hers for just a few moments and then pulled away and looked at her with a small smile.

"I think, if given a chance, I could fall for you, Greta."

"I don't know what to say."

"There's no need to say anything," he replied. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to come and call on you later. Like a proper gentleman calling on a lady he wants to court. Do you think your folks would be okay with that?"

"I think they would be pleased…you really want to see me again?"

"I want to see you every day."

The smile she gave him then nearly made the evidence of her accident invisible. Cody pressed another quick kiss to her lips and watched her make her way into her house.

* * *

**Hello...I need to explain this series. The title of the series is, of course, my attempt at being funny and spoofing a little the movie Life of Pi. Anyway...let me explain about this story and the series over all...**

**At the glorious plus we have our own vernacular. One of the terms we use is "pie". This means romance. Once it meant uncomplicated fluffy romance of any rating. Lately it has come to mean the sexytimes or promise of sexytimes. Sometimes very complicated. Anyway, the challenge put to the ladies in our circle for March was a pie story. Maybe with a rider we don't always write pie for...February has us trying to give Noah some love...either pie or starring roles at least...but March is for anyone. Why pie in March? Because March 14 (3.14) is Pi day...and we are nerds. Unabashed and proud nerds. So I got to thinking how cute it might be to write a series. Each story will feature a different rider and there will be pie.**

**I know that many of you have figured out that I often am inspired by pieces of music. This story is no different. The working title was "Cherry Pie" needless to say, I, at first, heard the good old song by Warrant in my head. But as things went on and I saw how Cody reacted to the letters and knew more about Greta, I started humming the old song "Billy Boy" Specifically singing the verse:**

**"Can she make a cherry pie, Billy boy, Billy boy?  
Can she make a cherry pie, charming Billy?  
She can make a cherry pie, she's the apple of my eye  
She's a young thing and cannot leave her mother."**

**It's been suggested that this song might be Cody's theme song. It fits him quite well...and he likes being called charming.**

**Anyway, these stories are all meant to be stand alone type one shots but I kind of like Greta...maybe someday I'll write more. I'd love for the other guys to meet her...maybe have Cody take her to a dance too...**

**So now that you know the story behind "Life of Pie", the author's notes for future offerings will be shorter. So let me know what you think. Do you like pie? Do you like Greta? Do you like Cody with Greta? Whose pie are you most looking forward to? I am just curious...-J**


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